Therapy Sessions
by SereneIrene
Summary: Bond is retired and living with Madeleine Swann in London. And Madeleine is a practicing therapist...A patient of hers in particular, will turn their quaint little life upside down.
1. Beep, beep, beep

LONDON, AUGUST 28TH 2015, 09:05 AM

He watched as she left their flat in a rush, carrying with her the rather large leather purse and her cellphone, shouting that she would be home at half-past five... He knew she'd be late due to the rush hour—but it was no use pointing it out. From Monday to Friday it was always the same thing and he appreciated the great effort to be there, on time, to have dinner with him, talk, watch a film or talk or take a relaxing bath together.

The life of a married man, Tanner had pointed out. Only there was no ring and no white dress—He and Madeleine had no use for the formalities and frivolities of weddings.

He preferred not to dwell on it—the word marriage seemed to sour everything. No, they were lovers and perhaps to others, a boyfriend (he despised the word for he was a man) and a girlfriend.

He looked at the date on his fancy new phone—they'd been together for seven months now. He'd never been with a single woman for that long… Although at one point he'd thought he would live his entire life with another—the one who betrayed him, broke his heart… She had died. It feels like it was only yesterday, but in fact a decade had already passed. He thought of her constantly, was haunted by her ghost, by the desire he still felt for her—the burn of it in his chest. And he probably would desire her for the rest of his life… Even if he also loves Madeleine. People always seek the impossible.

He finished up his breakfast and leafed through today's paper—nothing really on his agenda… Nothing that really captured his attention. Outside the day was new, but to him life seemed to drag on with no particular thing to do. A part of him longed for the adrenaline, the field, the missions. He can barely remember the time before he was an agent. And it doesn't really matter to him—no matter what Madeleine says.

The phone rang, to his annoyance. He honestly hoped it wasn't any more of his girlfriend's 'emergency patients'. The ones who could call her personal phones at any hour of day because they thought they were being stalked or that they would have the courage to pull a trigger. Also, the ones who telephoned crying over their failed relationships, their hopeless children, their aging bodies… The dreams they had never fulfilled.

He wondered, honestly wondered, where Madeleine found the strength with so many other people's problems… Even his (and they were not few). He couldn't imagine sitting all day listen to people cry and complain about their lives… Opening up about their personal lives and openly display their emotions.

He couldn't imagine simply sitting around all day.

Oh the irony.

He picked up the phone and pressed the green button to answer.

"Dr. Swann's residence?" He said mechanically.

He suddenly heard the characteristic beeping of the line going dead.

Somewhere, miles and miles away in a little house in Surrey, someone's heart beat rapidly, hands trembling with the telephone in hand. Eyes ready to tear up.


	2. The Patient is In

She skipped the lines and cracks of the concrete sidewalk, just as she used to as a child. It wasn't so much a silly superstition, as a happy distraction from her childhood demons. And in some way that little girl still existed in side of her—the pain she carried all those years molded the woman she became—the solitude made her walls ever higher and impenetrable. And she continued to live in a world half of illusion. Where she was someone else, surrounded by others as incredible as she—a place where she was loved, wanted and desired, where affections were abound.

But it was no use; really… the world in front and surrounding her was of gray and silence within the city noises. She longed again for her tiny cottage in Surrey, hidden away between the trees. The calm and the peace—perfect to write and to read—her passions. It was perfect because no one ever really knocked on her door.

She walked straight ahead, as quickly as she could in the dark heels she wore—a remainder and occasional luxury of her life before. She swerved away from the people—everyone in a rush, seeing, but not exactly looking at anything or anyone. Remote villages in tiny mountains are less of a hiding place than the modern metropolises.

She held on to her leather satchel, closely to her body, as she came near her destiny—a tall building holding several offices—the glass of the windows reflecting the buildings and the clouds in the sky. She showed her identification card in the lobby and in no time was in the elevator, heading for the fourteenth floor. It was that blessed time of the week, where she had to pour out to a complete stranger—her therapist—all of her memories, troubles, feelings and anguishes. The woman was beautiful, short blonde hair and a kind smile… She was from Switzerland, it turned out, so that explained her slight accent. Dr. Madeleine Swann…

In less than a year, she knew nothing but her name, but the woman knew almost every aspect of her life—but thankfully, not all. There were some things she simply wasn't willing to share—matters of the heart and matters of life and death—of her death.

Madeleine knew that this was her second life—that everything, starting from her name, had been modified. For her safety, they had said, but she wasn't so sure. The identity change hadn't made her safe from herself.

"Good afternoon, Ms. V—Dr. Swann is waiting for you in her office." The secretary said with a plastic smile. She simply nodded—Ms. V—and made her way towards it, the wide and tall wooden door opened, waiting for her.


End file.
